


Phantom Lights

by Hawkflight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Exhaustion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 17:52:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3578517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkflight/pseuds/Hawkflight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cold, like ice as they pressed to his skin before finally fading away, leaving nothing behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phantom Lights

**Author's Note:**

> For the Iron Throne Competition. Round One. Prompts used: "It is natural to indulge in the illusions of hope."-Gertrude Stein, afraid, angst, hollow, telescope.

There it was.

On Orion's left shoulder sat Bellatrix, glowing a bright blue and with a turn of the dial he could have sworn that there had been a flare bursting up from the star's surface. That was impossible though. Even with the telescope she - it - was too far away to see the stellar flares it would be emitting.

She had to be taunting him right now.

Even in death she was still alive up there. Free, while his father rotted away in a cell. That man might have not participated in the attack on Hogwarts - running like the coward Voldemort always said he was - but, he had let a piece of Riddle's soul into the school knowing that it would be intent on purging the building of all those that were considered unworthy.

A laugh burst from his lips and he had to step back from the telescope so she was no longer in his vision.

Unworthy.

His father had stuck his neck out for the the Dark Lord that day and he was called unworthy by the one person he had tried to instill fear of in others. Instead he was the scared one, running like a rat from one shadow to the next so the Lord may not see him. Of course he had though. That's why he was chosen for that task.

_"Draco. You will be the shining example to your parents when you take Dumbledore's life in my name."_

He could still remember the sneer on those lips. Eyes the color of blood boring into him, suggesting that if he did fail he would be punished. Severely.

Lucky for him his mother had made a deal with Severus, the Potions Professor was sworn to do the deed for him if he couldn't, and he hadn't been unable to do it. One simple request to put his family back in the Lord's good graces.

As if he had any. Even with Bellatrix's statement that  _he_  had been the one to disarm the old wizard Voldemort had still turned his wand on to his father and Bella had laughed while his father had writhed on the ground before the cruciatus curse. His mother standing by silently, eyes trained on her husband because the Dark Lord had ordered her to do so. If she didn't he would extend the time and then turn his wand on to her.

He wasn't given that order though, and even so he hadn't been able to look away. Though at some point Bellatrix had crouched down next to him, palms flat against his cheeks as she had turned his head to face her.

_"Your father is a coward Draco, do you see it? An embarrassment to the family name. He couldn't do one thing right, but you can, hmm?" Her thumbs brushed against his cheek bones and he couldn't stop the shiver from traveling down his spine. "One. Two. Three." Her fingers parted over his skin as she counted. "Four. So much more useful than your father. If you had a stronger parental figure you could have finished the task yourself, right? Right?" her voice took on a darker edge and he nodded quickly. The mad woman's eyes lit up. "That's right. You're a valuable asset to the cause. You would never run from your duties." Another nod. "Good boy. Such a good boy. Make your aunt proud. Make mummy proud. But most importantly make our Lord proud." She giggled, the sound sudden and sharp in his ears. "I'm counting on you to follow his orders to the letter next time." She leaned forward then, lips ice cold against his forehead._

His skin felt cold once more, as if she had just pressed her lips to the same spot and he quickly shook his head to get rid of the ghostly touch. Dead. That woman was dead now.

He wished he had been the one to kill her.

Draco's finger shook as he took hold of the telescope again and lowered his gaze until he was seeing the night sky once more. It was ablaze with life. Him and mother, though he couldn't see her in the sky, she was too far south. He found himself easily enough, glowing brightly and he sighed in relief.

He hadn't been sure he would be there. After everything he wondered how the stars hadn't grown dim during those dark years or even after. Always bright and blazing. Didn't they ever feel the threat looming over them? Didn't they-

"Draco." He turned at the sound of his mother's voice, going as still as stone a second after. Beside his mother stood a pale woman, black hair framing her face in wild curls, dark eyes staring at him, lips a light blue. "Come on, we're going to see your father."

For a moment all he could do was stare at the outstretched hand. Then he took it, letting her lead him away from the balcony and back into the house and through another door.

The stone in this hallway was darker, cracks running along the surface, spiders crawling from one to the next in a mad dash when the torch light flashed across the surface. Their footsteps echoed around him as they walked, making it sound like an army marching down to the execution block.

There was no block of stone when they stopped though, no heads rolling on the ground detached from their bodies. Instead thin bars separated him from a heap beyond them. Clothed in what could only be described as rags and hair dark from months without soap, no longer glowing in the light, not even a strand reflecting the flames back at him.

Draco took a step forward to feel his mother's hand on his shoulder and he glanced up to her. She wasn't looking at him though and his gaze drifted to the figure next to the door, a key in hand.

A key...

Were they letting him out, then? His father?

"Our trade." The man said, holding that key out that would grant him back his father and Draco reached out for it, fingers curling around the metal and drawing it close to his chest.

His mother raised her own hand that held a chain he hadn't noticed before. "She's yours now." His gaze traveled over the length of metal that was connected around slim wrists. That woman.

"Bella," the name fell from his lips, softer than a whisper.

Laughter filled his ears and he watched with wide eyes as the key in his hands turned to dust. "Oh, Draco." Those hands were on his face again and he couldn't tear his gaze from the dark eyes that bore into him. "A true coward's son. Ran from the battle, you and Cissy. So very disappointing, you know. Praying for a fellow coward's release. Did you really think that you would be able to go back to how it was before that easily? Hmm, little bull?" Her lips pressed twice to his forehead, cold as stone, leaving the skin burning in their absence and he squeezed his eyes shut.

When he opened his eyes the night sky sparkled above him and he became aware of the cool stone beneath his body. The chair that was lying on it's side a few feet from where he lay, no longer standing up right like when he had been peering through the telescope while seated on the cushion.

He wanted to scream at the heavens, but couldn't even push himself up off the floor. It was frustrating that's what it was. To know that without her alive he couldn't get his father right now. She kept taunting him even in death and he... he just fellow hollow with each brush of those phantom lips on his skin.

 


End file.
